I could see Montana in your unopened eye lids
Vast valleys in your chlorophyll

Your fingertips dipped in rust
And then you shook them to
Dry

I love your sky Colorado
Split ends that could spilt
Appalachians

I would touch you if I had hands
Rub our rust like tectonic plates
My ridges are cold like Alaska
New England Industry booms me out
Like bullets

But I found you near the Delaware again,
Like I did back in the winter ‘76
Or maybe ‘74

I can’t remember

I hated the combat but I loved the war
Reminds me of yours

Your crashing Colorado
Runs down your spine
The Mississippi would cut through yellow stone

If it could

But

You are dying, I know that now

Like everything else, like Vietnam

I see your red and your white
But where is your blue?
I’ve seen the hands of America

I’ve lost mine too.